THE CITRUS AFFAIR
A bitter-sweet tale of hi-tech espionage.

By David Colley

Chapter Three

Orange grabbed the phone. "Hello Orange... Peel old chap! What news?...Yes... Yes... Oh No! We must do something! Meet me at the Conference Centre!"

He turned to L: "It's worse than we think, L. Doctor Yes has already released the gRIN gene! My trusty companion Eric Peel has managed to track down the evil Doctor. He thinks he can see signs of the dastardly potion in ... Blackpool!"

L's face, normally a healthy bloated puce red, turned a shade paler: "My God, Orange, they're going for the Tory Party Conference! Poor old Joe Public will be completely taken in! Theyıll think the effects of gRIN are actually serious political rhetoric. What can we do?"

"Oh L, don't lose it now. Not when we're so close," said Orange sympathetically patting his boss's leg in a sensitive, yet wholly innocent, brotherly manner. "We know their terrible plan, and now we can try and stop them."

"Quick, to the Special car!"

Moments later Stilton sat patiently while P, FRANTIC's top technology advisor, explained the new features of the prototype Jaguar vannette:

"The specifications, Agent Orange, were as follows: touch-button operated nuclear warheads, wheelchair ejector seat, turbo hand controls and so on. But unfortunately the Employment Service have been a bit slow on deciding which adaptations come under the Access to Work rules, so funding has been a bit tight. So far we've only been able to install a plywood ramp."

"No matter, P. I've worked under more difficult circumstances," said Orange as he rolled swiftly up into the driver's space. "We have a nation to save."

And as he gunned the Jag out of the experimental lab, P shouted after him, "And I want that sodding ramp back in one piece this time!"

Orange called up Peel for an update on how wide the infectious gRIN had spread on the Special phone...

"It may be too late," pined Peel. "Thatcher has just spoken, each word dutifully recorded by the worldıs press! It's obvious she's been infected."

And Peel patched through a voice recording of the ex-PM's speech: "crackle... In my lifetime...fizz crackle ...all our problems have come from mainland Europe... and all the solutions have come from... crackle ... the English-speaking nations across the world."

"You see," said Peel, "she's been in contact with a re-engineered Banana."

"Hold on, hold on," interrupted Orange. "Do a cross reference with FRANTIC'S database of all her old speeches. We need to be sure."

"Of course, old chap. I should have done this before," Peel said, the sound of his fingers flying across a SpectrumZX81 Employment Service computer rattling over the telephone headset.

"Hold on.... results coming through now. My God, Orange. Can it be? The results show that her opinion is perfectly in line with her statements when she was in power. She's not joking at all! She's perfectly serious!"

"This whole thing has been a false alarm..."

Orange pulled the van over into a lay by, ready to turn back. "Damn and blast. Doctor Yes has been more clever than we though. How can we actually tell when the gRIN virus is being used? This is Britain, after all."

David Colley is a professional drama queen, and after years of struggling with the inevitable, now works full time in the arts. Contact: david@colley.demon.co.uk